Zibeline — Volume 3 eBook

CHAPTER XXII

The life of General de Prerolles was uniformly regulated.
He arose at dawn, and worked until the arrival of
his courier; then he mounted his horse, attired in
morning military costume.

After his ride, he visited the quartermaster-general
of his division, received the report of his chief
of staff, and gave necessary orders. It was at
this place, and never at the General’s own dwelling,
that the captains or subaltern officers presented
themselves when they had occasion to speak to him.

At midday he returned to breakfast at the Hotel de
Montgeron where, morning and evening, his plate was
laid; and soon after this meal he retired to his own
quarters to work with his orderly, whose duty it was
to report to him regarding the numerous guns and pieces
of heavy ordnance which make the object of much going
and coming in military life.

After signing the usual number of documents, the General
would mount another of his horses, and at this hour
would appear in civilian attire for an afternoon canter.
After this second ride he would pass an hour at his
club, but without ever touching a card, no matter what
game was in progress.

He dined at different places, but oftenest with his
sister, where by this time a studied silence was preserved
on the subject of Zibeline. This, however, did
not prevent him from thinking of her more and more.

Mademoiselle de Vermont had not been seen again in
the Bois de Boulogne since the night of her dinner,
although Henri had sought in vain to meet her in the
mornings in the bridle-path, and afternoons in the
Avenue des Acacias.

He decided that probably she did not wish to ride
during Holy Week; but when several days had passed
after Easter, and still she was not seen amusing herself
in her usual fashion, he said to himself that perhaps
it would be the proper thing to make what is called
“a dinner-call.”

There are some women whose fascination is so overwhelming
as to cause the sanest of lovers to commit themselves,
whence comes the slightly vulgar expression, “He
has lost his bearings.” Henri began to
feel that he was in this state when he presented himself
at Zibeline’s home. A domestic informed
him that Mademoiselle had been absent a week, but was
expected home that evening. He left his card,
regretting that he had not waited twenty-four hours
more.

It was now the middle of April, the time when the
military governor of Paris is accustomed to pass in
review the troops stationed on the territory under
his command, and this review was to take place the
next morning.

The order for the mobilizing of his own division having
been received and transmitted, Henri’s evening
was his own, and he resolved to pass it with Lenaieff,
feeling certain that his colleague at least would speak
to him of Zibeline.